


Wordsmith

by dirtydeedsdonedirtcheap



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Community: HPFT, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-07
Updated: 2017-01-07
Packaged: 2018-09-15 13:19:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,173
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9236840
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dirtydeedsdonedirtcheap/pseuds/dirtydeedsdonedirtcheap
Summary: A hopeless romantic, Hermione searches for the love of her life in words.





	

** Wordsmith **

Three empty wine bottles lay forgotten on the living room floor next to a tub of melting chocolate chip ice cream. If it wasn’t for magic there would have been a permanent stain from the liquid on the beige carpet that was starting to drip from its container due to the sheer fact that this was becoming almost a weekly occurrence.

 

With a half empty red wine bottle in her hand, Hermione Granger sipped it sloppily and laughed loudly at a joke that wasn’t all that funny.

 

“And then he had the audacity to demand I pay for the entire bill. Who am I that I’m forced to pay for dinner for two?”

 

Next to her, her best friend snorted, taking a swig from her own wine bottle.

 

“You’re Hermione Granger! That’s who! Men should be throwing knuts at your feet.”

 

Hermione squinted momentarily. Ginny probably should have said galleons but money was money and lately she felt like she was starting to become virtually worthless.

 

Dating was _hard_. This coming from a girl who had a hand in helping Harry Potter defeat Lord Voldemort. It was slim pickings out there and Hermione was starting to reach the bottom of the barrel. It seemed like date after date she found herself at Harry and Ginny’s to complain about one poor sod after the other.

 

“I’m going to die alone,” she said glumly. “It’s going to be Crookshanks and I forever. He needs a father.”

 

Ginny arched her eyebrow and then placed her wine bottle to her lips. She wasn’t drunk enough for that sort of line. Usually Hermione weaved Crookshanks into the conversation when she was feeling particularly down. That meant many hours of Ginny having to convince her how truly wonderful she was.

 

Its not like she didn’t mean it. Ginny thought Hermione was a great catch. Anyone would have been lucky to have her but it was always a cliché coming from your best friend. She stared at Hermione with pity. Her eyes were slightly red from sobbing. Her brown curly hair was frizzy and unruly due to the fact she kept rubbing her head on the floor unconsciously and she had a red wine stain on her blue blouse.

 

_Really_ , any guy would have been lucky to have her.

 

“That’s part of your problem,” another voice said, entering the room. “Get rid of that bloody monster.”

 

Hermione rolled her eyes. “Hello to you too Ron,” she said snootily.

 

He mumbled a half-hearted hello and took a seat on the floor next to Ginny, taking a sip from her bottle.

 

“Not like my date tonight went any better. Expect me to pay for five course meals these women! Then they want to hear about what it’s like to be friends with Harry Potter.”

 

He made a disgusted face and took a long drink from the bottle, staring at Hermione in deep thought.

 

“Can’t we just give it another go?”

 

Hermione coughed and had to sit up from her position, spitting wine onto the carpet further staining it.

 

“Because that wasn’t a train wreck,” Ginny responded for her and then promptly punched her brother.

 

Ron winced and then shrugged. “Well, at the rate we go out we’re running out of options. It’s going to be the last resort. Come on Hermione, what do you say?”

 

Hermione snorted and pointed her open bottle at Ron, some of the contents spilling on the carpet.

 

“I’ll move to Africa if I have to. I’ll scour the ends of the earth for a man that isn’t you.”

 

It wasn’t like their relationship ended badly. It was a mutual break-up and they were still friends. Ron just liked to gripe on about it when he was in a bad mood. Sometimes, Hermione thought it would be easier getting back together with him. They dated because that was what everyone expected of them but after the first two weeks they realized there were no sparks there. There was no romance or hint of sexual desire. Sex wasn’t even on the table for the two months they were testing things out.

 

“We’re going to die alone,” Ron said pathetically, slumping on Ginny.

 

“We’re going to be one of those elderly people in commercials where they’ve fallen and they can’t get up and then their family finds them a month later dead.”

 

A loud sigh could be heard as someone bounded down the steps and into the living room. Ginny smiled, red in the face, at her fiancé who had a sour look on his face as he eyed the group.

 

“Alright, alright. Once the two of you start agreeing on things and getting morbid that’s when I have to cut you off. Ron,” Harry said sternly, “go home.”

 

Ron didn’t need to be told twice. Having had only one drink at dinner and a few sips of Ginny’s wine he disappeared with a loud crack.

 

“Come on Hermione, let’s get you upstairs and in bed.”

 

Harry put his hand out and helped her get up slowly. She wobbled slightly on her feet. He had to guide her up the stairs and down the corridor to the guest bedroom that she regularly spent the night in.

 

“Harry,” she said with a slight hiccup, “do you think I’ll ever find someone?”

 

He had to stop himself from groaning and gently pushed her towards her room, turning on the light. The room was virtually empty except for a bed with freshly pressed white sheets. Harry said as much as he loved Ginny’s family he didn’t want to give them the impression or anyone else that they could be long term visitors. He refused to fully furnish the room.

 

“You _have_ to find someone,” he said matter-of-factly while helping her take off her shoes. “I haven’t had sex in two weeks because you’re always here. I love you but I love sex too. Sex is great. You need sex in your life.”

 

Hermione stared at him slightly startled and pink in the cheeks.

 

“Sex, well, I haven’t had sex in—“

 

Harry shook his head violently. “I don’t need to know how long it’s been Hermione. The point is you need to stop being so damn picky.”

 

Hermione didn’t respond as Harry placed the white duvet over her body and then turned off the lights.

 

-X-

 

Hermione awoke the next morning with a headache and a scowl on her face.

 

Picky.

 

Ha!

 

She was _not_ picky. If anything she was _selective_ and yes, there was a difference. Was she supposed to lower her standards in order to meet somebody? Was she supposed to be miserable because they weren’t as smart as her, cultured or interesting? Was she supposed to dumb it down and twirl her hair when they asked her if she was scared of Voldemort?

 

That _wasn’t_ Hermione.

 

Hermione was a strong independent woman who didn’t _need_ a man.

 

She just _wanted_ one. Preferably one by tomorrow that would want to be her husband in two years because she had a five-year plan that she was falling behind on.

 

Hermione blinked tiredly and rubbed her crusty eyes. She was debating between sneaking out so she didn’t have to see Harry or Ginny or trudging downstairs and giving them a piece of her mind and then having breakfast. Her stomach grumbled and she realized she was going with the latter. It was Saturday and that meant Harry was cooking.

 

He made a delicious omelet.

 

She threw the white duvet off of her and peeled her body from the bed. Before she headed down the stairs she turned to look at herself in the mirror that was hanging in the corridor. She looked like she had been through hell and back. Her makeup had streaked down her cheeks, her hair needed a thorough combing and she had stains down her front.

 

She shrugged her shoulders and headed downstairs anyway. She didn’t have to worry about Harry or Ginny judging her.

 

Entering the kitchen, the sunlight made her wince momentarily. Harry was in his blue and white striped pajamas, humming as he scrambled some eggs and Ginny was reading the paper while munching on a piece of bacon.

 

“Good morning sunshine,” she said cheerily as Hermione entered.

 

Hermione flopped down onto a wooden chair next to her and grunted in response. Functioning with a hangover was never easy.

 

“I’m not picky,” she said after several minutes of silence.

 

Ginny and Harry didn’t respond, which only infuriated Hermione.

 

“I’m _not_! You seriously cannot agree with Harry, Gin.”

 

Ginny gave her an amused smile and handed the paper to her friend with the dating ads front and center. Hermione rolled her eyes. When dating Ron hadn’t worked out Ginny had suggested she open herself up to new ideas. Browsing the personal ads, which was a new thing in the Wizarding World, was one of suggestions.

 

“But you are, you are unbelievably picky. Here, check block H.”

 

Hermione rolled her eyes but started to scan the page as Harry placed a plate of eggs and bacon in front of her. The smell made her slightly queasy but there was no way she could resist his food even if it made her sick later.

 

“Good looking man seeks female who likes to cook, clean and press laundry. Looks not important but nimble fingers are. Good heavens,” Hermione said, dropping the paper to the table. “Ginny, says here he’s seventy.”

 

“Maybe you need an older man.”

 

Hermione stared at her with a look of annoyance.

 

“I’m not dating your father.”

 

“Well, you can’t. He’s taken. See, picky.”

 

Harry gave Ginny a lopsided smile. “Even I have to back Hermione on this one. It sounds like he’s looking for a maid and not a wife,” Harry said, taking a seat across from them and digging into his own breakfast.

 

“Listen to this one,” Ginny said, peering over the paper, “Sexy Scottish male seeking athletic woman. Must love Quidditch. I wonder who could that be?”

 

Harry gave her a wry smile. “Oliver Wood, always looking for the one. What do you say Hermione, how about nightly sessions riding his broom?”

 

Hermione snorted, nearly choking on a piece of egg. “Shut-up Harry. See _this_ is the problem. There’s no originality and I know most of the single men in the Wizarding community.”

 

There was no arguing there. It was as if she had made a pass through all of their schoolmates. There was a brief flirtation with Dean Thomas that ended after twenty minutes because Ron of all people couldn’t handle the two together and kept shouting something about a ‘girl code.’

 

She accidentally responded to block A once, which turned out to be Neville. She went to dinner at his house because his Gran screened all of his dates. She kept talking about how brave Neville was during the Battle of Hogwarts. Slay one snake and you’re a hero. Mind you Hermione had been petrified at twelve, played deadly wizards chess at eleven and saved a supposed killer from the Dementor’s kiss at thirteen. She had experienced so much more that killing a snake wouldn’t have made her blink twice.

 

Suffice to say Augusta Longbottom was not impressed with her attitude.

 

“Block D sounds responsible,” Harry said, taking a look at the ads. “Tall, well educated young man ready to begin his life with Mrs. Right. Loves spontaneity, debating hot button issues and women with a flair for life.”

 

Hermione eagerly grabbed the paper. “That sounds just like me!”

 

Ginny grinned. “Somewhat. I suppose. Well, what are you waiting for? Answer it. Ha, look at Block G.”

 

Hermione scanned the paper quickly and smirked. “Must dislike Harry Potter.”

 

“It doesn’t say that,” Harry said, trying to grab the paper from her. He glanced at Block G and scowled.

 

“This is why you can’t trust the _Prophet_. They’ll publish anything.”

 

Hermione and Ginny started laughing as Harry sulked in his seat. The air felt lighter. Hermione felt excited. Another date, another chance at love. Maybe Block G would be a promising prospect.

 

-X-

 

Three days had past and Hermione threw herself into her work. She was meeting with the mysterious Block G tomorrow. From the letter he had written her she found out his name was Thomas. That made her extremely excited because she couldn’t recall anyone from Hogwarts with the name Thomas.

 

_Finally_ , someone new.

 

A knock at her office door forced her to look up. Standing in the doorway was her colleague and former schoolmate, Justin Finch-Fletchley. He smiled brightly at her and held up a large greasy take out bag.

 

“Dinner milady,” he proclaimed excitedly.

 

“It can’t be dinner time already.” she said with a half moan. Wearily, she leaned back into her leather chair and waved for him to come into the room. “I still have stacks of paperwork to go through. Why do I have so much paperwork?”

 

It was a bit of a routine for Justin to pop into her office various times during the week. They both worked in Magical Law Enforcement at the Ministry. Justin had more ties with Muggle Law and worked both ends of the spectrum.

 

“I finished all of mine,” he said with a light shrug. “Then again I don’t read everything multiple times like you do. It’s still light outside if that helps,” he said, taking a seat across from her.

 

Hermione shook her head and dropped her quill on the piece of parchment she had been just reading. “I like to be thorough. Come on, give me some food,” she demanded bossily.

 

He shook his head and held the bag to his chest.

 

Justin had a flair for dramatics. Hermione wondered briefly if Thomas was dramatic. She shook her head and tried to remain focused on the person before her. Justin was an interesting character. When they first started working together, mainly going over old cases and paperwork, he could barely form coherent sentences around her. He had been haughty in school from what she could remember but war could change a person.

 

“With that tone I’ll be giving you nothing. What’s with the attitude? Bad date?”

 

Hermione rolled her eyes. “Bad is an understatement. Why are men morons? I’m going to be an old maid.”

 

A wide smile was plastered on his face revealing exceptionally white teeth and there was a spark of excitement in his brown eyes.

 

“You’re wonderful. If only I was so lucky. Come on,” he said excitedly. “Let’s ditch work for the rest of the day and have some fun.”

 

Hermione snorted. She had at least six more stacks of parchment to go through. She would be at work until the wee hours of the morning and she had so much planning to do for her date.

 

But at times like this it wasn’t hard to like Justin. They became close after long nights in the office. It would’ve been hard for Hermione to truly enjoy her work if she didn’t have someone to ground her sometimes.

 

They got along well. He might’ve been awkward at times but he had an endless amount of stories to share about his travels with his family. They were things Hermione could relate to since she too grew up in the Muggle world. He had an affinity for doing exaggerated voices of everyone in his stories that made Hermione laugh so hard she had a habit of spilling her drink on herself.

 

Plus, his smile was infectious. He was always beaming. He was always nice to even the littliest clinets they had. He said he became more compassionate after the war. Hiding out trying to protect his family that had no magical abilities changed his outlook on life.

 

“No. Give me my food.”

 

Justin groaned but didn’t budge from his seat.

 

“Hermione, come on. Have some fun. You owe me. How many times do I bring you free dinner?”

 

She scoffed. “I offer to pay you every time.”

 

He rolled his eyes in response. “I’ll never take your money but I’ll take your time. You need fun. You have ink on the side of your face and your hands are covered in it. This room is so dark and depressing and you’re sulking behind your desk. I’m answering your cry for help,” he said very seriously.

 

Hermione wanted to scoff again but she could hear her mother chiding her in her head to not be rude. Her office wasn’t dark and depressing. She just didn’t like too much light because she got chronic migraines from reading the same thing over and over again.

 

“I’m not sulking. I’ve got a date tomorrow.”

 

Justin didn’t respond right away. He was staring at her quietly and placed the bag of food on her desk but he didn’t offer any to her like he normally did.

 

“Well,” he said sarcastically, “isn’t that grand.”

 

She didn’t understand what his problem was. When it came to her dating life he didn’t show much interest. Though he did cheer up after hearing her lament time after time the men were never the one.

 

“Maybe you need to go on a date one day. We could double date! How fun would that be?”

 

He stared at her completely expressionless. “So much fun,” he said sarcastically. “You know what would actually be fun? Skipping out on work because no one would know anyway.”

 

Hermione crossed her arms against her chest and glared at him. “I have work. I’m an adult.”

 

“You need to loosen up,” he said flatly. “You’re boring.”

 

She stared at him with her lips pursed into a thin line. She didn’t need to loosen up. She was loose!

 

“I am not boring. I am very fun.”

 

“Ha!”

 

“I am!” she shouted. “I am _barrels_ of fun.”

 

“The proof is in the parchment piles.”

 

She turned red. “It’s not my fault I have so much work.”

 

He grinned and stood up from his chair. “Let’s just go have some fun. We can turn this dinner party into a picnic.”

 

Hermione paused for a moment to think about it. Justin was always pushing her to try new things. If she wasn’t out on a date she went to dinners with him to new hot spots that Harry and Ginny refused to step in for fear of Wizardrazzi or they took strolls in the park together when the weather was nice. Plus, he did bring her free food every so often. She _did_ owe the pointy chinned man.

 

“Justin—“

 

“And then we can go dancing,” he suggested, doing what Hermione assumed was a poor attempt at a body roll.

 

Her eyes lit up. “Dancing?”

 

“I need to work on my skills. I need a partner. Women like men who can dance, right? I must learn to cut a rug.”

 

She raised her eyebrow and couldn’t help but grin. “Cut a rug?”

 

“Don’t look at me like that. All the hip kids say it. I think. Come on, what do you say? Care to shimmy and shake?”

 

“Maybe not shake,” she said quietly as he wiggled his hips.

 

“Shaking is good for the soul,” he said with a wink.

 

She stood up and grabbed her coat that was hanging on her chair. She barely had time to button it up completely as he pulled her out of the room and towards outside. Her hand felt warm in his and there was a rare kind of excitement bubbling inside of her.

 

-X-

 

With as much concentration she could muster Hermione turned a page in her book. She had been waiting anxiously for her date for the past ten minutes. He was five minutes late and every time someone walked into the park, Hermione felt her heart skip a beat.

 

Getting to meet the man behind the letters was always the fun part even though she was seemingly always disappointed. This guy was intriguing. He asked her questions about herself, something not all men did because they were too self-centered.

 

Hermione tapped her foot impatiently. He might have been interesting but he was also late. She buttoned another button of her grey cardigan, a breeze rolling by, and squinted as someone started to walk towards her.

 

She smiled brightly and slammed her book shut then shielded her eyes from the sun with it.

 

“Jean?”

 

“Thomas?” Hermione said quietly.

 

Standing in front of her was her mystery man. He was wearing grey slacks and a Robins egg blue sweater and large spectacles. His eyes were a striking bright blue but there was one thing Hermione couldn’t help but feel a little queasy about.

 

He was bald.

 

It wasn’t about looks. Well, it wasn’t _all_ about looks but she couldn’t help but feel a little pressure in her chest at the thought of her nonexistent future children balding in their early twenties.

 

Thomas eyed her uneasily but Hermione tried to keep her smile up. He did sound delightful on paper after all.

 

“Hello, Thomas. It’s nice to finally meet you in person.”

 

He grimaced, which should have been Hermione’s first sign to run very far away in the opposite direction.

 

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” he said with an American accent and a slight groan. “You’re Hermione Granger. You can’t be my date. You’re a _legend_.”

 

Hermione blinked, unsure of what to say.

 

“Hermione _Jean_ Granger…err….right. So how has your day been going? I’m sure I’m going to regret taking an extended lunch today but…”

 

She wasn’t sure what she was mumbling on about as his blue eyes examined her closely.

 

Thomas crossed his arms against his chest and pressed his lips together into a thin line.

 

“You defined yourself as voluptuous. You’re not very voluptuous,” he said matter-of-factly.

 

Hermione could feel the heat rise in her cheeks and jumped up from her spot on the park bench. He was lucky they were in a Muggle area because he did not want to see what this legend could do with her wand.

 

“I beg your pardon—“

 

“I’m not trying to insult you Hermione. I’m just pointing out the obvious. You don’t have curves, when you say voluptuous I think of…well, a woman with let’s just say _oranges_ instead of _clementines._ ”

 

Hermione bit her bottom lip unsure of what to say or what to do because there were too many witnesses.

 

“I have never been so insulted in my entire life.”

 

He rolled his eyes and removed his spectacles, cleaning them with the end of his sweater. “I find that hard to believe. Come on, we’re getting off on the wrong foot. I can apologize.”

 

“But you’re not,” she said blankly.

 

“Well,” he said with a shrug, “it would be half-hearted. I mean you did _lie_ about your body and yourself. Jean, really.”

 

Hermione took two steps towards the left, trying to get away from him. This bald man was insulting her. He had quite the nerve and a rather pointy chin.

 

“You said you were charming. Who’s the liar now?”

 

Thomas scoffed, pretending to be offended with a hand to his heart. “I am charming…after a drink or two,” he said, winking suggestively. Hermione felt bile rise in her throat. “Come on, what do you say I get you liquored up?”

 

-x-

 

With tears blurring her vision, Hermione found herself not more than five minutes later barging into Harry and Ginny’s kitchen unannounced. She was on the verge of a complete breakdown and needed someone to make her feel better.

 

She nearly screamed in horror at the sight of Harry and Ginny on top of their kitchen table with the fruit bowl she had gifted them during their housewarming on the floor and apples strewn about, the two kissing as if they were teenagers.

 

“No,” Harry said with a groan as Ginny pushed him off of her. “No, you can’t be here. You’re supposed to be on a date.”

 

Hermione gave Harry a weary look and started to hiccup, trying to stop herself from crying. Harry groaned in response and hopped off the kitchen table and then helped Ginny off.

 

His white button down was rumpled, his hair was messier than normal and his bottom lip was bleeding.

 

“I’ll make some tea,” Ginny said brightly.

 

Hermione stared sadly at Harry who was glaring at her and tapping his foot on the floor impatiently.

 

“I can go elsewhere if I’m not welcome here,” she said quietly.

 

“Of course you’re welcome here,” Ginny said loudly, turning towards Harry and glaring at him. “Don’t be silly.”

 

Harry started to button what he could of his shirt. “But sex. I was going to have sex. Lots and lots of loud sex.”

 

Ginny blushed but nonetheless gave him a stern look. “Harry Potter, you’re on thin ice.”

 

“Fine,” he said with a scowl. “Hermione, what went wrong now?”

 

Hermione felt very small standing near the doorway as Harry’s temper was rising.

 

“He was completely pompous. The most arrogant person I’ve ever met,” she said hiccupping slightly.

 

He blinked and ran a hand through his hair attempting to make himself look more presentable. “Did you go on a date with Draco Malfoy?”

 

“No,” she said snootily. “Worse. He was bald and insulted me like no other. He said I lied about being voluptuous.”

 

Harry snorted. “Well if the shoe fits.”

 

“Harry Potter! Leave now!”

 

Harry grumbled to himself as Ginny started to push him towards the doorway and around Hermione.

 

“I get kicked out of my own home. Sounds familiar! Next thing I know I’ll be sleeping in the cupboard.”

 

“At this rate you’ll be sleeping alone until our wedding night!” Ginny yelled and then slammed the door in his face. She turned around quietly and motioned for her distraught friend to join her at the table.

 

At this point Hermione was openly weeping but it was a sad cry compared to the hysterics she had felt moments before.

 

Ginny crossed her arms against her chest and then uncrossed them, taking a seat next to Hermione. She grabbed her hands and squeezed them lovingly.

 

“Hermione,” she said slowly, “I love you and now that Harry is out of earshot and you’re sober I can say this to you as your best friend. I understand that you’re upset. I understand that you’re lonely but if you barge into my home again this week I will hex you.”

 

Hermione started at Ginny with a startled expression on her face. She hadn’t really looked at the redhead when she entered the kitchen. Her black t-shirt was slightly ripped. She could see the hint of a red lace bra peeking through and her red lipstick was mostly on her cheek instead of her lips.

 

“Gin—“

 

“He’s not the only one with needs,” she said sternly. “So let’s figure this out.”

 

“It’s not that easy.”

 

“Yes it is. You’re picky. Don’t give me that look Granger. You and Ron didn’t work out. Why?”

 

“Because we’re friends,” she said lamely.

 

Ginny shook her head in protest. “No, because he’s somewhat of an idiot and you’re bossy. Plus, he has low self-esteem. You wanted someone that could argue with you on your level.”

 

“I’m not bossy,” Hermione said in protest.

 

Ginny ignored her and leaned back into her chair. “Then there was Neville and Seamus.”

 

“Well you don’t have to go down the line.”

 

“We could go on about this all day but Harry’s lunch break is almost over. Let’s just skip to the end. Stop being so damn picky. Did you ever stop to think that maybe this guy was just nervous? Maybe he was trying to be funny.”

 

Hermione gave her a look that said she was unconvinced.

 

“Hermione, loosen up,” she advised, a serious look in her eyes.

 

Ginny had never spoken to her like that before. Normally she humored her and listened to her drone on about her poor dates, analyzing the situation over and over again making both of their heads spin. She was never blunt or mean.

 

“I’m loose,” she said lamely.

 

“Great talk. Now get out.”

 

Hermione gaped at her. “What?”

 

“I’m serious. Get out and don’t come back until tomorrow if you really need too. I’m not kidding. Unless you want to see Harry and I naked.”

 

Hermione swallowed loudly and paused for a second letting the sentence hang between them.

 

“I’ll just take my tea to go then,” she said quietly.

 

-x-

 

A week had gone and went but still Hermione’s conversation with Ginny unnerved her. She could barely concentrate on her work and found herself staring at the personal ads for minutes on end unable to reach out to any potential daters. Was she really that picky?

 

Was she really that boring?

 

She didn’t consider herself picky. She had standards! Being insulted was a no go in her book. She wanted someone trustworthy. Someone who could make her laugh and have discussions with about life and the future. Someone who cares for her like Harry. Except she wanted someone _so_ far off from Harry. She especially wanted someone who was not interested in Harry or wanted to quiz her about her life during the horrors of Voldemort.

 

There was a real possibility that Hermione would die alone.

 

She sighed wearily and glanced down at the piece of parchment she kept scribbling on and the newspaper next to it. She told herself she had to stop wallowing. Throwing herself a pity party wasn’t going to work anymore. She needed to get back in the action.

 

She needed to update her own dating advertisement. Somehow Hermione always ended up as Block Z. The very last ad on the block with limited space and little originality.

 

Maybe she needed to liven things up. Instead of intelligent she could describe herself as…

 

Was she supposed to dumb herself down in order to find the one? This was hopeless! She was hopeless. She was a hopeless romantic looking for love.

 

She pinched the bridge of her nose in frustration as someone knocked on her door.

 

“Knock, knock.”

 

She looked up and gave Justin a cold hard stare.

 

“The door is open as usual. Just come on in.”

 

He frowned momentarily but perked up as he took a seat across from her. She had already seen him twice today. The first time she was in a sour mood and barely mumbled hello. The second time he was with Ron, which puzzled her because she hadn’t known they were friends. Ron said something about getting lost trying to visit Harry, which didn’t quite make sense considering the two worked together and shared an office. She didn’t question it because Ron was Ron and Justin had scurried off during their exchange, lime green ascot swishing.

 

“Do you want to talk about it?” he asked quietly, tapping his fingers on her mahogany desk.

 

Talking about anything was the last thing Hermione wanted to do. She wanted to drink wine with Ginny but she feared she could see Harry in a whole new light if she even dared knock on their front door.

 

“No,” she said with a loud yawn. “What can I help you with?”

 

Justin started fidgeting in his seat and fingered his tie nervously. He was always so twitchy in her office.

 

“Actually,” he said slowly, “I was wondering if you’d go out with me tonight. You see…”

 

Hermione stared at him completely caught off guard and then cast her eyes downward. Was Justin asking her out? Justin with his pointy chin you could spot a mile away. Justin who wore bow ties on Fridays because he considered that dressing down.

 

He was her colleague. Another schoolmate. Of course he wasn’t a friend but more of an acquaintance. He was practically a stranger even though she spent most of her week with him.

 

He was funny. Charming when he wanted to be but a bit odd. Sometimes he couldn’t form coherent sentences and stumbled over his words a lot when they were in close proximity. Hermione always wondered if she smelled.

 

Did Justin have a thing for her?

 

“Hermione, are you listening?”

 

She blinked, trying to pull herself together and secretly wished she had put lipstick on this morning.

 

“Huh-what?”

 

Justin stared at her perplexed and then leaned over her desk and handed her an envelope.

 

“The ballet. Tonight? Since my mother can’t go.”

 

Hermione’s heart dropped. She nodded her head as it became clear what was going on.

 

Well, it wasn’t a date but it was better than staying home alone while Crookshanks gave her a look of what she was starting to understand as pity.

 

“Of course,” she said with a bright smile. The first genuine one of the day. “I love the ballet.”

 

“Great. You’re a lifesaver Hermione. Really didn’t want the ticket to go to waste.”

 

Justin was grinning from ear to ear. His excitement was somewhat infectious. Hermione found herself a little less annoyed than she was a few minutes before.

 

He leapt out of his chair and walked around her desk, giving Hermione a half hug and squeezing her shoulders. If she had just looked up she would have realized his brown eyes were concentrated on the parchment she was scribbling on moments before.

 

-x-

 

Dear Z Block,

 

I too am a poor soul looking for love.

 

Maybe our two souls are searching for each other.

 

Care to be hopeless together?

 

Sincerely,

 

Wordsmith

 

-x-

 

Dinner parties were normally a slight form of torture for Hermione. Sure it was fun when Seamus and Dean drank too much and they started singing at the top of their lungs. _Maybe_ she got a kick out of George dancing wildly at the off-key music while he forced Percy to dance with him.

 

What she didn’t love was showing up at Ron’s alone and Molly asking her a million questions about her love life. Was she seeing anyone? Were they promising?

 

Why couldn’t she just love her son?

 

Tonight, however, Hermione was in a good mood. She hadn’t seen her friends in almost two weeks and things were starting to look up.

 

Hermione waved hello to Ginny who was talking to her mother and quickly made her way through Ron’s crowded house and towards his kitchen. Ron didn’t enjoy living alone. When they were together Hermione had abandoned her flat and was around all hours of the day. Even now when she came over there was someone in his guest bedroom or snoozing on his settee. He said living at the Burrow did that to you. You always wanted someone around because silence to him wasn’t normal.

 

Hermione pushed her way into the kitchen where Ron was talking animatedly to Justin Finch-Fletchley.

 

She almost did a double take and had to blink twice because Justin had never been to one of Ron’s dinner parties. The two were standing there together while Arthur, Neville Longbottom and Hannah Abbot were pouring themselves drinks.

 

Ron and Justin hadn’t changed out of their black work robes. You could always tell who worked at the Ministry because they all wore the similar black and white dress code, which Hermione was guilty of too.

 

“Justin?” she said with a slight question in her voice.

 

Justin and Ron jumped at the sight of her and took two steps away from each other.

 

“Err…Hermione.”

 

“Hermione,” Ron said with a slight cough. “You’re here.”

 

She furrowed her eyebrows and stared at him. Where else was she supposed to be? The last time she missed one of Ron’s events he had shown up at her flat and demanded an explanation. Apparently having the flu wasn’t deemed a good excuse.

 

“I am and so is Justin. Since when did the two of you become friends?”

 

Justin gaped at her while Ron just kept shrugging his shoulders and then shaking his head, no words coming out of his mouth that he kept opening and closing.

 

Hermione wasn’t sure why but she felt annoyed. She felt like Justin was avoiding her. She hadn’t seen him since the ballet. Whenever she stopped by his office he wasn’t there. It was starting to effect her work because she needed his input on several cases. It was also hurting her stomach because she relied on him to bring her food whenever she got too busy and forgot to eat.

 

She crossed her arms against her chest, waiting for an answer.

 

“We’re mates!” Ron shouted. He slapped Justin on the back awkwardly. Justin winced in return but nodded in agreement. “We’re all just mates. Am I supposed to make a list that needs approval by you? Date a girl for two months and she clings on to you for the rest of your life.”

 

“Ron—“

 

“I know I’m irresistible,” he said with a slight burp.

 

“You’re an idiot.”

 

Ron shrugged. “An irresistible idiot who throws private dinner parties and is kind enough to invite all kinds of people. Justin here is a person. He gets an invite. I mean we sort of work together.”

 

Justin wrinkled his nose. “No we don’t.”

 

“Shush, Justin. I’m proving Hermione wrong.”

 

“I think she’s right,” he muttered. “You’re an idiot.”

 

“Alright, calm down. What were we talking about?”  


“Dating.”

 

Justin turned red but Hermione barely noticed.

 

“Dating?”

 

“Yes, that’s right. I went out on a date with a woman recently but she wasn’t all that great. Not as fun as she sounded in her letters but a good snog but enough about me.”

 

“Please,” Hermione uttered drily.

 

“Justin went on a date.”

 

“You did?”

 

“I did?”

 

“He did,” Ron said with a grimace. “Now they’re practically dating.”

 

“You are?”

 

“I am?”

 

“I suppose,” Ron said with a shrug. It seemed he knew more information about Justin’s dating life than Justin himself.

 

“Well, who’s the lucky girl?”

 

“Ron?” Justin said with a nervous gulp.

 

“Let’s just say, _you_.” But Ron didn’t finish the rest of his sentence.

 

“Anyway, enough about Justin. He’s boring. Hermione, have you been seeing someone?”

 

Next to him Justin was turning red and nervously pushing his hand through his hair but Hermione barely noticed. Her good mood was instantly back thanks to Ron’s question.

 

Was she seeing someone new? Sort of. She just hadn’t technically met him yet.

 

“There’s someone…” she said with a grin.

 

-x-

 

“Knock, knock.”

 

Justin looked up from his desk at the sound of the familiar voice. He smiled lightly and leaned back into his chair at the sight of Hermione standing in his doorway. It was rare for her to visit him. It was like he had some sort of radar or tracking device on her so he knew just when to pop in and sign a document or go over a legal issue with her.

 

“To what do I owe this magnificent pleasure?” he said, waving her inside.

 

Justin’s office wasn’t much different from hers. They both had the same leather chairs, mahogany desks and stacks of parchment littered everywhere. Though Justin opted for more light and his walls were covered with photos from various family vacations.

 

“Well, I just came back from an awful lunch date. Thought I would stop by.”

 

She took a seat opposite from him, holding a letter to her chest.

 

He smirked and leaned towards her, yawning slightly as he asked, “That bad?”

 

“Bad is an understatement. The man was bald and sixty.”

 

Justin scoffed and plopped back into his chair, stretching his arms out.

 

“Sixty is the new thirty.”

 

“Well, he was as cheeky as a seventeen year old!” she exclaimed with a laugh.

 

He shrugged. “It’s not like you don’t have someone else who has caught your eye. Got another letter to Wordsmith there?”

 

“Yes,” she said brightly. She had been writing back and forth with Wordsmith on the regular since Ron’s dinner party. It was like he knew her attraction to him was growing.

 

“Wait,” she said startled, “how did you know that’s his name?”

 

Hermione hadn’t told anyone who she was exactly writing to. She thought Ron would laugh at her. Ginny would probably make a comment that it was cute and Harry would just scratch his head and ask her to not tell him the intimate details.

 

She hadn’t really talked to anyone about it since the dinner party and even then she was careful not to divulge any intimate details. Wordsmith was a name for her and her only.

 

“Er,” he pretended to busy himself with some paperwork, picking it up and placing it down repeatedly, not glancing at the words, “you told me his name?”

 

“No,” she said hotly. “I didn’t.”

 

Hermione felt bile rise up in her throat.

 

“Justin?”

 

He nervously dropped his papers and pushed a hand through his dark brown hair, which proved difficult because of the amount of product he put in it.

 

“There’s a possibility he is I and I am he,” he said quickly.

 

Hermione said nothing but stared at him with her hands clutching the letter she had just written. The ink was barely dry. She had spent twenty minutes crafting perfect sentence after sentence. There was a flirtation to the letter, talk of silky lingerie that Hermione didn’t actually own or wear.

 

He looked at her very seriously as she shook silently in her seat, unsure if she was on the verge of tears.

 

“Hermione, I’ve been trying to tell you for ages,” he said softly.

 

“I’ve been writing to you for the past eight months?”

 

Eight months of getting to know someone that was already there. She shut her mouth for fear she was going to be sick or she would wail in pain.

 

His eyes darkened. “Well, don’t sound so disgusted. I thought we wrote each other excellent letters.”

 

Justin appeared calm on the outside but on the inside he was panicking. If she walked behind his desk she would have seen his legs were shaking uncontrollably.

 

Hermione stood up from her chair and threw the letter down onto his desk. He tried to reach for it but she slapped his hand away in an absolute rage.

 

“ _Intimate_ letters with _intimate_ details!” she shouted angrily.

 

How could she be so stupid? She smacked her hand against her forehead in disbelief. She had shared her hopes and her fears. She talked about how lonely she felt. The way she despised going home to her flat because there was no one there to greet her. How she felt she had no one in her life to truly open up to until she started writing to him.

 

She _trusted_ him.

 

Justin was a deep shade of red. He kept clapping his hands together nervously, unsure of what to say.

 

“I do have a way with a quill,” he said dumbly.

 

Hermione glared at him. “How could you do this to me? I…I…”

 

He waved his hand in the air at her as she started to inhale and exhale loudly.

 

“Calm down!” he shouted nervously. “You asked me before if it’s possible to have feelings for someone you’ve never met before. Well, Hermione, you met me but now after all of our letters you _know_ me.”

 

Know him? Like him? All Hermione knew was he was a disgusting conniving little sneak!

 

“What the hell is wrong with you!” she shouted, banging her fist against his desk. Her anger was reaching a boiling point. There was a part of her that wanted to pull out her wand and hex him. There was another part of her that knew she could do just as much damage to him with nothing but her fist.

 

“You pretended to be someone you’re not to what, amuse yourself? Perhaps you felt sorry for lonely old Hermione.”

 

He rolled his eyes in annoyance. “You can be really dim sometimes.”

 

Her eyes flashed angrily. “I beg your—“

 

“I like you,” he admitted quietly. “Okay?”

 

She paused, caught off guard and unsure of what to say.

 

“What?”

 

“I like you. Come on, you can’t be that blind. Hermione, we’ve gone on romantic dinners together. We’ve had picnics. We went dancing. I bring you lunch and listen to your troubles. I went to the _ballet_ with you. I might be cultured but I don’t like the ballet.”

 

It was too much for Hermione to handle. She felt light headed in his overly bright office. She wanted to crawl back to her own space and pretend this had never happened. She wanted to go back to five minutes ago where she was none the wiser.

 

“What?” she asked again with a puzzle expression on her face.

 

Justin sighed slightly annoyed. “I don’t like the ballet. There’s too much leaping. Still, I went anyway because you like it and I like you and I want to spend every waking moment with you even if it’s torture. Come on, do you really think I bought those tickets for my mum?”

 

Hermione didn’t know what to say because she knew the answer.

 

“This doesn’t make any sense. Why wouldn’t you tell me?”

 

He shrugged and started to walk slowly around the room careful to stay away from her.

 

“It’s just easier to write down. It started innocently enough. Besides, you were so wrapped up in wanting to be swept off your feet. I wanted to do that for you,” he admitted.

 

“Justin—“

 

He shook his head tiredly. “Eight months. Hermione, we’re practically in a relationship and you didn’t even realize.”

 

She gaped at him, opening and closing her mouth unable to find the words. For the first time since she had started working with him Justin looked small, tired. The normally somewhat confident man she knew was missing and in his place was this vulnerable person who was pouring his heart out to her.

 

“I’m just very confused,” she admitted. She was confused. Hurt. Hermione felt a mixture of emotions, some she didn’t know the words for. “I need time to process this. I think…I have feelings for you or at least for Wordsmith.”

 

He shook his head and walked towards his office door, opening it.

 

“That’s the thing. I know I have feelings for you. I don’t have to think about it.”

 

Hermione stared at him, heart beating nervously in her chest. She felt broken as he waved for her to leave his room, slamming the door loudly behind her.

 

-x-

 

She couldn’t get him out of her head. For the first time in six months, Hermione Granger did not show up to work on Monday. On Tuesday the anxiety was too great at the thought of seeing Justin she kept jumping behind desks and hiding in the loo whenever a dark haired man walked her way. Suffice to say she did not get much work done because many dark haired men worked in the Ministry. By Wednesday she was so jittery her boss suggested she take the rest of the week off to recover.

 

Though recovering for Hermione meant pacing her bedroom floor back and forth, reading and then rereading each letter Justin had written her and then going over each dinner and conversation they had.

 

Justin was her wordsmith.

 

_Hers_.

 

She couldn’t comprehend it. She felt confused, which is why by Sunday morning Hermione found herself knocking on Justin’s door loudly in the freezing rain.

 

The door opened after several knocks and he appeared in front of her with a lopsided smile on his face. His hair was messy and he was wearing a grey t-shirt and plaid boxers. She had never seen him dressed down before and blushed slightly, wishing he would put some clothes on.

 

“Hermione, what brings you here on an early Sunday morning?” he asked, casually leaning against the door.

 

“I don’t know,” she said quietly. “I think I’m going to be sick.”

 

She smacked her hand to her forehead, trying to feel for a temperature. Surely she must have been going insane from fever because she couldn’t remember what she wanted to say, why she was at his doorstep in the first place and what she was feeling.

 

Justin blanched. He didn’t even bother asking her to come inside. He hid behind the door for a few seconds and Hermione feared he was going to just leave her there standing in the rain panicking. Moments later he reappeared and held out a piece of candy in an orange wrapper.

 

“Do you need a ginger candy?”

 

She blinked and gave him a confused look. “A what?”

 

“A ginger candy,” he said slowly, as if she couldn’t understand the English language, “they’re supposed to make you feel better.”

 

“I know what ginger does!” she snapped.

 

Justin furrowed his brow in frustration. “I just figured…”

 

“I don’t know what I’m doing here.”

 

He crossed his arms against his chest after she snatched the candy from his hand and plopped it into her mouth.

 

“You really should have figured that out before you came here. It usually helps me to practice in front of a mirror what I’m going to say. Settle the nerves before hand,” he said awkwardly.

 

Hermione wanted to roll her eyes. This. _This_ man standing before her was her wordsmith? The same wordsmith who wrote eloquent letters that made the words leap across the page. One sentence could make a fire form in the pit of her stomach and another could make her weak in the knees.

 

“Justin—“

 

“We could discuss this at a later date,” he suggested hurriedly. “Maybe _never_ if it doesn’t end in my favor.”

 

This bumbling idiot who wore neon colored ascots, bow ties on dress down days, ate food with his mouth open and was generally jumpy around her was the guy she had been pining after all along.

 

“Justin,” she said wearily, pinching the bridge of her nose, “I have feelings for you.”

 

“I mean. Wait, what?”

 

He stared at her with a dumbfound expression on his face. When he realized she wasn’t going to answer he took a step back and then inhaled and exhaled loudly.

 

“You have feelings for me? You have feelings for me!” he shouted in disbelief.

 

He started to do a little victory dance that was partly embarrassing but there was another part of Hermione that thought it was rather charming.

 

“I can’t believe it! I mean I can. I’m quite the catch. Everything Ron said worked,” he said moreso to himself than Hermione.

 

She furrowed her brow at the mention of Ron as she sucked on her ginger candy.

 

“Ron?”

 

Justin nodded feebly. “He was sort of my advisor on all things Hermione Granger,” he said with an embarrassed shrug.

 

“Ron? _Ronald Weasley_?”

 

Hermione couldn’t believe it. Ron was not an expert on her. They might’ve been close friends but he seemed to always forget her birthday, get her takeout orders wrong and tuned her out for most of their conversations.

 

Justin stared at her as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. He thought briefly for a second if he should ask her inside but instead joined her in the rain instantly getting drenched.

 

“Yes, Ron. Though I think he did lead me astray with a few things. No offense Hermione but he said you were a worldly dancer but my toes say otherwise.”

 

She gaped at him. She didn’t listen as he continued talking because it was starting to make sense as she pieced it together. The party. The way Ron kept pulling Justin to the side and how she’d run into him at work.

 

Ron had told Justin how to impress her. He might not have remembered her birthday but he knew what flowers she liked and things she wanted to try but she was too afraid to do on her own. She couldn’t help but smile. For what it was worth Ron was a good friend.

 

But this was Justin. Her co-worker. Like that wasn’t a red flag enough. He had a pointy chin, what if their children had pointy chins and her bushy hair? Or they talked with his slightly nasal voice that irritated her on her worst days.

 

“Err, Hermione? Are you still there? Earth to Hermione?”

 

She blinked, pulling herself back to reality at the sound of his voice.

 

“I don’t like liars,” she said sharply.

 

Justin nodded in understanding. “I’m sorry. I didn’t think—“

 

“That’s right. You didn’t think but for once I am past thinking.”

 

Hermione nervously pushed herself onto the tips of toes and tried to kiss him. She missed and ended up pressing her lips against his chin. Before she could run off, Justin grabbed her and leaned down to kiss her.

 

She tasted tangy and bitter, just like the ginger candy that was still in her mouth.

 

If you asked Hermione the kiss was still damn near perfect.

 

-x-

 

“ _Stop_ , come on, there’s someone at the door.”

 

Hermione giggled as Justin kissed her neck. She pushed him away and tried to hop off the bed in one swift motion but he ended up pulling her back and giving her a kiss. She grinned and he let her go after that, hopping off the bed with her as she rushed off towards the door.

 

She felt giddy. After two weeks there was a permanent smile on her face. Now work was filled with sneaky kisses, which almost always happened in her office, the door now permanently closed whenever he popped in. She didn’t have to worry about horrible dinner dates or responding to personal ads because she finally had someone in her life.

 

It was too early to say if he was the one but Hermione felt like Justin was definitely going to be someone big in her life.

 

He snaked his arms around her tightly as she opened the front door halfway. She grinned as Harry stood in the doorway with a perplexed expression on his face.

 

“Hermione, I haven’t heard from you in—Justin Finch-Fletchley, is that you?”

 

He nodded his head and relaxed his grip on his girlfriend to give Harry an awkward hello.

 

“So this is why you haven’t been responding to my owls?” he asked hotly.

 

Hermione grinned and nodded. “I want to say sorry. I really do Harry.”

 

“But,” Justin snaked around her and grabbed the door, interrupting her, “she’s really not mate. Do us a favor, next time you come over if we don’t answer after the third knock try again later.”

 

Hermione snorted, trying to contain her laughter as Harry’s green eyes shined angrily.

 

“This is how you treat me after all the times I’ve been there for you? Ginny and I got into a fight and—“

 

Justin was kissing her neck and Hermione couldn’t concentrate on Harry’s words. She groaned and pushed him off of her and tried her hardest to focus on Harry, pink in the cheeks.

 

“Harry,” she said very seriously, “You were right. Sex is great. I needed sex in my life. That’s my advice. Go have sex.”

 

Hermione slammed the door shut on Harry’s startled face and turned towards Justin with a mischievous grin on her face. She was ready to take her own advice.

**Author's Note:**

> Author’s Note: I’m rusty. Hard to write the descriptions but I liked the dialogue. I would never write them as a couple but I like a challenge. Let me know what you think in a review.


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